


8. Where Did Everybody Go?

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: Care and Feeding 'Verse [9]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Cuddle Piles, Gen, Grief, Mourning, War is hell, clones being soft with each other, clones supporting clones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26902558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: Prompt: abandonedPost-battle, a shiny struggles to cope.
Series: Care and Feeding 'Verse [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956823
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	8. Where Did Everybody Go?

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm. This one doesn't fit my fluffier theme. Sorry?

CT-18676 huddled on his bunk in the barracks. Normally set up for a full platoon of 4 squads to share, the space was barely populated. ‘76’s squad had been wiped out. He was the only one left. 

The other squads in his platoon were likewise decimated, two or three troopers from each 9-man squad huddling together in the too-big space, taking time to comfort each other and mourn the loss of the their squadmates, batchmates, brothers. 

‘76 didn’t have anyone left. None of his batchmates were left on the Negotiator. His armor had been carelessly discarded at the foot of his bunk, and ‘76 pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his nose in the crease between his legs as he shook with the let down of adrenaline and the overwhelming feeling of everything being wrong. 

He knew he should go clean up. Get something to eat. Sleep. That’s what he’d been trained to do. He survived. He needed to be ready to follow the next set of orders.

‘76 carefully didn’t think about how the bunk above his was empty. ‘89 had been his best friend. 

He’d died without a name.

‘76 resisted the urge to scratch at the bacta plaster on his arm where a stray shot had gotten through the gap in his armor. 

The door cycled open, but ‘76 didn’t look up. 

He needed to get up. His squad, his platoon, wasn’t the only one that had seen heavy casualties. He needed to clean up. Get something to eat. Sleep.

His stomach rolled at the thought of food and he swallowed hard. ‘76 could hear low voices, but couldn’t make out the words. He rocked slightly in place, relaxing his grip around his knees to bring his hands up to comb through his hair. 

He could still hear ‘89’s whimpers of pain, the way his breathing sounded as his lungs filled with blood. 

The bunk shifted slightly and ‘76 felt the warmth of another body beside him. Something warm was draped over his shoulders, smelling of something unfamiliar but comforting, a little bit of peace seeming to settle over him. 

“Hey, vod,” a gentle voice broke into his thoughts. “You got a name yet?” the clone asked softly.

‘76 shook his head, not looking up. His armor was still bright white and unmarked, other than the scars left behind from the battle. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” the other clone responded. “Pirun platoon has plenty of room. We’d like it if you’d come and join us.”

‘76 tilted his head slightly and looked out on the barracks with one eye. The remaining members of Tank’s Orar platoon were slowly gathering up their blankets and packs with their personal gear under the watchful eyes of Lieutenants Rayne, Boil, and Waxer, who had split up around the room to talk to the vod left in the platoon.

“They’re all gone, Captain,” ‘76 answered.

“I know, vod,” Wooley answered. “Will you tell us about them?” They hadn’t had the chance to do remembrance before returning to the ship.

‘76’s breath caught, but he nodded and slowly started to uncurl himself. “What?” He asked, mostly to himself, seeing what appeared to be rough-spun brown wool draped over his shoulders. “Sir this is -”

“It’s alright,” Wooley assured him. “The General knows what happens to his discarded robes. I promise he doesn’t mind.”

‘76 nodded tightly, and clutched the edges of the robe in one hand against his chest to keep it wrapped around him. 

“Is there anything you need here for the night, vod?” the Captain asked, and ‘76 shook his head. Everything he had was standard issue; he hadn’t even had the chance to start thinking about bartering on the clone troopers ‘black market’ that Kenobi definitely knew about but chose to ignore. 

“Okay. C’mon, then. You’re not going to be alone tonight.”

‘76 didn’t look back at the empty bunks as his captain led him from the barracks behind others of his platoon, the lieutenants likewise shepherding those who had needed a little more encouragement. 

The brothers of Orar were welcomed into the arms of their brothers from Pirun, space made on the floor between the bunks for brothers to curl up together. They told stories late into ship’s night about the brethren they had lost, and said their remembrances as they’d been taught. 

‘76 had entered Pirun’s barracks a nameless shiny, left behind by his squad and companions. He never left, but gained a name: Bard.

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a:
> 
> I've named the platoons and squads randomly.
> 
> Pirun: Water  
> Orar: Thunder


End file.
